LANCASTER 
Advice  to  Husbands 


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SPENCER'S  BOSTON  THEATRE No.  CIII. 


ADVICE   TO   HUSBANDS. 

gin  Original  C0mt^i^tta, 

IN    ONE    ACT. 


•WKITTEN  BT 

CHARLES   SEARS   LANCASTER. 

WITH 

OMOINAL    CASTS,  COSTUMES,   AND    THE    WHOLE    OF    THE    STAGE 

BUSINESS,  CORRECTLY  MARKED   AND   ARRANGED,  BY 

MR.  J.  B.  WRIGHT,  ASSISTANT  MANAGER 

OF  THE  BOSTON  THEATRE. 


BOSTON: 

"WILLIAM    V.    SPENCER, 
128   Washikgtom  Street,   (cornee  op   Water.) 


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(2) 


'       ^  tl.NiVl.KSl  iV  Ol'  CALIFORNIA 

'4^(ob         '  SAMA  BAKliARA 

L'iy  Ah 


ADVICE  TO  HUSBANDS. 


Scene  I.  —  A  Shady  Lane,  with  Latidscape,  in  1  o. 

Enter  Two  Footpads,  l.  h.  1  e. 

Isf.  Footp.  Two  whole  days,  and  not  a  single  customer  !  I  ■won- 
der what  the  profession  will  come  to  next  ? 

2d.  Foofp.  I  know  what  we  shall  come  to  if  Ave  travel  the  same 
road  much  longer. 

Ist.  Footp.     What  ? 

2d.  Footp.     The  gallows  ! 

Isf.  Footp.  You're  a  fool !  Our  forefathers  earned  a  reputable  live- 
lihood on  the  highway,  and  were  respected  by  all  who  met  them. 

2d.  Fontp.  Now  the  confounded  railroads  let  nothing  go  ahead  but 
themselves.  There  was  some  chance  of  a  gang  overhauling  a  mail 
coach  ;  but,  hang  me,  if  you  will  find  a  troop  with  pluck  enough  to 
stop  a  railway  train.  For  my  part  I  hate  steam.  It's  an  imposition, 
and  interferes  with  our  riglits. 

\st.  Footp.     I'm  longing  for  a  bold  deed  ! 

2d.  Footp.     (^L'lokimj  ojf,  L.  H.)     There's  one  to  your  hand. 

1«^  Footp.     Where  ? 

2d.  Footp.     Crossing  the  third  stile,  you'll  observe 

\st.  Footp.     No  :  he  won't  do. 

2d.  Foofp.     Why  not  ?     He's  well  dressed. 

\st.  Footp.     Yes  ;  but  he  wears  mustaches. 

2d.  Footp.     What  of  that  ? 

1st.  Fuofp.     Mustaches  tights  ! 

2d.  Footp.     Does  they  ?  • 

1st.  Footp.  {Lofikuig  in  another  direction,  R.  H.)  There's  one  more 
to  my  taste —  a  handsome  girl. 

2d.  Foiitp.  That's  the  charitable  young  widow,  Mrs.  Trevor,  Gen- 
eral Leslie's  daughter,  that  lives  at  the  big  house  here. 

1a^  Fur'p.     They  say  she  always  carries  plenty  of  money. 

2d.  Footp.     Yes,  to  give  away. 

l-it.  Footp.  More  foul  she.  Besides  she  won't  miss  it :  it  can  but 
go  once. 

2d.  For/tp.  Yes  ;  but  she's  just  come  out  of  widow  Frecland's  cot- 
tage. The  children  are  all  ill,  and  she  risks  infection  for  the  sake  of 
doing  good. 

(3) 


4  ADYTCE   TO   HUSBANDS. 

1st.  Fooip.  Hold  your  peace,  and  stand  back. 

2d.  Footp.  {Obeying  suUenhj.')     I'll  have  no  hand  in  this ! 

\st.  Footp,  Then  I'll  do  it  myself.  {Conceals  himself  behind  wing, 
».  H.)  {Exit  'Id  Footpad,  l.  h.  1  e.) 

Enter  Mrs.  Teetor,  r.  h.  1  e. 

Mrs.  T.  I  forgot  to  tell  the  poor  woman  I  would  return  to-morrow. 
Shall  I  go  back  ?  No  —  I  have  never  missed  a  day  yet :  she  will  be 
sure  to  expect  me.  How  clear  and  fresh  the  morning,  and  what  a 
tranquil  spot !  How  like  my  own  heart  once  !  Not  now  ?  Alas  ! 
half  the  charm  is  faded ;  it  stUl  beats  calmly ;  but  its  freshness  is 
gone  ! 

\st.  Footp.  {Advancing,  R.  H.)  Now  for  a  bit  of  the  polite.  Ex- 
cuse me,  yoimg  woman,  I'll  trouble  you  for  your  money. 

Mrs.  T.  You  ask  roughly.  I  have  httle  left ;  but  that  you  are 
welcome  to. 

Isl.  Footp.     {Seizing  her.)     Then  give  me  your  watch. 

Mrs.  T.     Unhand  me,  and  you  shall  have  all. 

Is^.  Footp.     I'll  help  myself. 

Mrs.  T.     {Struggling.)     Help  —  help  ! 

1st.  Footp.     There's  no  use  in  struggling.     {Shows  a  clasp  kni/e.^ 

Enter  Colonel  Rashleigh,  with  a  pistol,  l.  h.  1  e. 

Col.  M.     Coward  —  stand  off!     (  Throws  him  back.) 
Mrs.  T.     O,  Heaven  !     I  shall  bring  destruction  upon  another. 
Col.  R.     Fear  not  for  me,  madam.     I  will  make  short  -work  with 
him..     {Cocks  the  pistol — the  Footpad  springs  vpon  him,  and  grasps 
it.)     \\'e\\,  if  you're  fond  of  wTestling,  have  with  you  ;  but,  if  the  East 
have  not  spoiled  me,  this  shall  be  your  last  exploit ! 

{Exeunt,  struggling,  R.  H.  1  e.) 

Mrs.  T.     I  may  yet  be  in  time  to  send  assistance.     Help  —  help  ! 

{Exit,  L.  H.  1  E.     A  shot  heard  without,  R.  H.) 

Reenter  Coloxel  Eashleigh,  hastily,  R.  h.  1  e.) 

Col.  R.     Faith,  this  is  occupation  for  cooler  weather  !     I  beg  your 

?ardon,  ma'am  ;  but —  eh  ?  fled,  and  left  me  alone  with  my  glory  ! 
expected  a  more  amiable  companion.  She  had  a  form  to  love  with 
once  gazing  on.  But  that's  passed  with  me.  I  have  loved — been 
cruelly  deceived  —  had  every  hope  dashed  and  —  pshaw  !  "Will  my 
heart  never  be  at  rest  ?  Enough  —  she  was  a  woman,  and  Avanted 
protection  —  perhaps  may  do  so  still.  I  saw  two  fellows  lurking 
about.  She  can't  have  gone  that  road  without  stumbling  over  one,  so 
I'll  e'en  take  this,  and  follow  her,  for  her  safety  demands  it. 

{Exit,  L.  H.  1  e.) 


ADVICE  TO    HrsBANDS. 


Scene  II.  —  A  Dratcinc/  Room,  tcith  French  tcindotos  opening  on  a 
laicn.  Table  and  two  chairs  on  L,  H.  ;  table  and  two  chairs  on  R.  H. ; 
sofa  on  L.  C.  ;  C.  d.  practical. 

Enter  Mrs.  Trevor,  hurriedly,  from  the  lawn,  c.  d.  l.  h. 

Mrs.  T.  O,  that  dreadful  pistol !  The  report  still  rings  in  my 
ear  —  the  knell  of  one  —  perhaps  my  preserver  !  To  be  even  the  in- 
nocent cause  of  harming  a  fellow-creature  is  insupportable  ! 

Enter  Colonel  Rashleigh, /rom  the  latcn,  c.  d.  l.  h. 

Thank  Heaven,  he  is  safe  ! 

Co/.  R.  (l.)  Pardon,  madam,  this  immannerly  intrusion.  I  did 
not  perceive  you  until  so  near  the  house  that  I  feared  my  retiring 
■would  create  suspicion  and  surprise.  I  followed  solely  for  your  pro- 
tection ;  say  that  my  object  is  accomplished,  and  I  will  at  once  withdraw. 

Mrs.  T.  (k.)  Nay,  sir,  my  heart  is  too  full  for  adequate  thanks. 
Pray  stay,  my  father's  coming  —  he  would  not  be  happy  without  press- 
ing the  hand  of  his  child's  preserver.     {^Going,  r.  h.) 

Col.  R.  Thanks  are  superfluous  for  an  act  that  carries  its  own  re- 
ward.    But  you  wish  it,  and  I  obey. 

Mrs.  T.     (^Aside.)     His  voice  seems  like  a  memory  of  other  days. 

—  {Aloicd.)  Excuse  me,  sir,  I  —  pray,  sir,  be  seated.  (Colonel 
Rashleigh  advances,  and  appears  to  recognise  Mrs.  Trevor,  who 
courtesies  and  exit,  R.  H.  1  e.) 

Col.  R.  Powers  of  mercy,  it  is  she  !  Yes  —  I  cannot  be  mistaken. 
The  same  enchanting  harmony  of  form  and  feature  —  the  same  in- 
tense brilliancy  of  eye  —  the  same  haliness  of  expression  !     It  is  she 

—  it  is  my  wife  !  {Recovering  his  emotio7i.')  Shall  I  stay  to  be  her 
spoil  ?  Shall  years  of  disgrace  and  mental  suffering  be  burned  away 
by  a  single  glance  of  an  inconstant  woman  ?  No  —  we  have  met  for 
the  last  time  !  {He  quits  the  room  hastily,  c.  d.  ;  returns,  and  pauses 
on  the  threshold.)  Yet,  stay.  {Advances  slotclg.)  She  appeared  not 
to  recognize  me ;  she  could  not  do  so,  and  meet  my  injured  gaze  ! 
She  is  little  changed;  but  time  and  climate  have  done  their  Avork  on 
me.  I  should  like  to  know  if  she  is  happy,  and  to  look  once  more 
upon  features  that  have  been  to  me,  for  so  many  j-ears,  as  a  beautiful 
and  melancholy  dream  ! 

Gen.  L.  {Without,  R.  H.)  Leave  the  house  unthanked !  Were 
there  no  other  way  of  detaining  him,  I'd  knock  the  generous  rascal 

dOAATi  ! 

Col.  R.  Her  father's  voice  !  He  was  no  party  to  her  gtiilt.  He 
left  England  immediately  after  our  marriage. 

Enter  General  Leslie,  r.  h.  1  e. 

Gen.  L.     {Speaking  as  he  enters.)     Where  is  this  modest  youth? 
Hejday  !     I  tliought  to  find  a  stripling,  not  a  hero  !     Are  you  the  pre- 
server of  my  poor  girl  ? 
I  * 


O  ADVICE    TO    HUSBANDS. 

Col.  R.  {Formalhj.')  Opportimity,  sir,  has  happily  thro-\vn  me  into 
so  enviable  a  position. 

Gen,  L.  A  brother  soldier,  and  fear  to  face  a  volley  of  gratitude 
from  an  old  man  and  a  lovely  woman  !  You  have  laid  us  under  a 
debt  beyond  our  means  to  paj- —  do  not  make  wsfcel  bankrupt  by  re- 
fusing the  small  instalment  of  our  thanks.  Your  hand,  young  man. 
Accept  the  bluff  but  deep  acknoAvledgment  of  one  who  never  uttered 
a  sentiment  he  did  not  feel.  (Shakes  Colonel  Rashleigh  xcarndy  by 
the  hand.)  If  you  knew  my  daughter  —  her  gentleness  —  her  tender- 
ness —  her  charity  —  her  piety  —  you  would  think  her  a  being  rather 
sent  to  teach  than  to  suffer,  and  wonder  how  a  stony-hearted,  doating 
old  father  could  have  his  child  saved  from  death,  and  press  the  hand 
of  her  preserver  without  a  tremor  or  a  tear  !  I'm  as  hard-hearted  as 
an  old  gun  flint !     {^IVipes  his  eyes.) 

Col.  R.     I  once  knew  such  a  being  —  I  once (  Turns  aside  to 

hide  his  emotion.)  I  cannot  speak  of  her  !  His  words  bring  back  so 
Strong  a  tide  of  memory  that  my  very  thoughts  almost  choke  me. 

Gen.  L.  Y^ou  are  moved  —  ill  —  nay,  nay,  no  disguise,  man. 
(^Again  putting  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes.)  The  strongest  of  us  may 
have  our  hearts  unstrung  by  the  excitation  of  a  moment.  Y''our  strug- 
gle, too  —  perhaps  you  are  hurt  ? 

Col.  R.  No  —  not  hurt.  I  am,  by  nature,  light  of  spirit,  which  a 
recent  affair  has  clouded.  I  am  now  en  route  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
countr}\  Excuse  my  tarrying  longer.  I  feel  that  the  delay  of  a 
single  hour  may  change  the  complexion  of  a  life. 

Gen.  L.  How  :  Not  stay  to  witness  the  result  of  your  morning's 
■work  ?  The  eye  that  you  have  brightened  —  the  cheek  that  you  have 
tinted  —  egad,  the  escape  of  my  dear  daughter,  makes  me  talk  to  you 
as  freely  as  if  you  were  my  son.  —  (^Aside.)  I  wish  he  were  ;  for  he's 
a  fine  fellow,  and  that's  the  truth  on't. 

Col.  R.     (^Aside.)     Shall  I  at  once  declare  myself? 

Gen.  L.  {Aside.)  He  seems  in  grief:  perhaps  for  the  loss  of  some 
relative. 

Col.  R.  (Aside.)  Should  she  be  again  married  !  O,  that  thought 
is  insupportable  !  —  (Aloud.)  Sir,  you  may  deem  the  question  I  am 
about  to  ask  strange —  impertinent  —  but  I  have  a  strong,  an  uncon- 
trollable motive  for  asking  it.     Has  your  daughter (Pauses.) 

Gen.  L.     Speak  on,  sir.     I  admire  frankness. 

Col.  R.     (After  a  struggle.)     Has  your  daughter — a  husband  ? 

Gen.  L.     (Seriously.)     She  has  not,  sir. 

Col,  R,     Nor  ever  had  one  ? 

Gen,  L,     (Warmly.)     Never! 

Col.  R.     Never  ? 

Gen.  L.  "What  are  the  duties  of  a  husband?  To  love  and  cherish 
the  gentle  object  confided  to  him  —  to  nurture  and  direct  her  opening 
mind,  to  watch  over  and  protect  her  name  and  iaxne,  and,  should 
calumny  assail,  to  stifle  its  very  breath  ere  it  grew  into  the  form  of 
words  !     No,  no  —  she  never  had  a  husband. 

Col.  R.  You  speak  with  deep  meaning,  and  raise  an  inexpressible 
interest.     Dare  I  ask 

Gen.  L.  I  have  nothing  to  disguise.  There  was  one  who  professed 
to  love  her. 


ADVICE    TO    HUSBANDS.  7 

Col.  R.     (Aside.)     Professed ! 

Gen.  L.  He  seemed  a  fine,  noble,  generous  fellow,  just  such  an- 
other as  yourself.  (Observing  him  minutely.)  Your  name,  young 
man  ? 

Col.  R.     Rashleigh  —  Colonel  Rashleigh. 

Gen.  L.  You  have  done  well,  sir,  for  your  country  in  the  east.  I 
have  heard  your  name  associated  with  deeds  of  greatness.  (  With  emo- 
tion.) You  resemble  Frank  Trevor  so  much,  that  you  might  pass  for 
his  elder  brother. 

Col.  R.     (Aside.)    He  forgets  the  effect  of  seven  years. 

Gen.  L.  (Recovering  himself.)  Six  months  after  their  marriage 
affairs  of  importance  di-ew  him  to  London,  and  then  —  suffice  it  — 
•we  never  saw  him  more  ! 

Col.  R.     Nor  heard  from  him  ? 

Gen.  L.  {Struggling  loith  his  feelings.)  Why  should  I  conceal  it  ? 
He  was  a  scoundrel ! 

Col.  R.     A  scoundrel ! 

Gen.  L.     Ay,  sir  —  a  scoundrel ! 

Col.  R.  (Aside.)  Could  I  have  been  deceived  ?  Alas  !  no.  De 
Vere  fell  beneath  my  pistol,  avowing  his  treachery  ! 

Gen.  L.  One  letter  reached  us  containing  charges  against  his  spot- 
less wife  that  he  lacked  courage  to  utter. 

Col.  R.  (Hastily.)  Was  there  no  excuse  —  no  palliative  ?  Might 
he  not  be  the  dupe  of  a  designing  knave  ? 

Gen.  L.     He  lied  the  test  of  scrutiny. 

Col.  R.  (Eagerly,  and  much  impassioned.)  And  the  charge  was 
false  ?  (Genekal  Leslie  makes  a  moveinent  towards  Colonel  Rash- 
leigh, stops,  and  partly  recovers  himself.) 

Gen.  L.  (  With  great  determination.)  Y'oung  man,  did  not  an  hour 
since  make  my  life  a  debt  to  you  —  for  mine  is  WTapped  in  hers  —  an- 
other hour  would,  perhaps,  end  fatally  to  one  or  both  of  us  ! 

Col.  R.  Forgive  my  anxiety.  Nothing  was  more  distant  from  my 
thought  than  to  make  a  charge  a  father  should  blush  to  hear.  Your 
threat,  general,  was  premature. 

Gen.  L.  (Endeavoring  to  speak  with  composure.)  To  doubt  honor 
is  to  wound  it.  Shall  I  not  avenge  myself  on  the  traducer  of  my 
child  ?  You  are  too  young  —  too  inexperienced  to  know  the  refined 
torture  that  a  chance  word  may  inflict  upon  a  parent's  heart. 

Col.  R.  (Aside.)  I  will  not  —  cannot  longer  delay  the  avowal. 
—  (To  General  Leslie.)  I  dared  to  breathe  a  thought  in  his  de- 
fence, knowing  that  that  man  —  that  he  himself  is 

Gen.  L.     Dead  ! 

Col.  R.     Dead  ? 

Gen.  L.  I  knew  what  you  were  about  to  urge.  (Reflects  for  a 
moment.)     He  died  —  and  not  by  my  hand  —  that  is  my  reproach  ! 

Col.  R.  And  she  —  his  wife  —  his  widow  I  Did  she,  too,  cherish  a 
bitter  feeling  against  him  ? 

Gen.  L.  (Much  moved.)  AVe  will  not  speak  of  her.  Change  of 
scene  was  resorted  to  —  there  was  a  blank  in  her  life,  and  ^he  has 
never  uttered  his  name  since  ! 


ADVICE   TO    HUSBANDS. 


Enter  William,  l.  h.  1  e. 


Wil.     The  messenger  has  returned,  sir. 

Gen.  L.  Let  him  wait.  {Exit  William,  l.  h.  I  e.)  I  sent  him 
to  a  neighboring  magistrate  with  information  of  the  attack  in  which 
you  were  a  conspicuous  actor.  A  few  moments,  and  I  will  return. 
{Crosses,  L.  h.)  Your  hand  once  more.  We  shall  not  be  worse 
mends  for  you  having  defended  the  dead  and  /  the  living  ! 

{Exit,  L.  H.  1  E.) 

Col.  R.  Well  may  they  say  that  life  is  a  melancholy  jest.  Here 
am  I,  a  dead  man  and  a  confirmed  scoundrel  —  compelled  by  circum- 
stances to  hear  all  sorts  of  charges,  to  endure  all  sorts  of  hard  names, 
and  to  find  that  my  sole  redeeming  act  is  an  unsuccessful  effort  at  a 
post  tnortem  defence.  After  all,  I  feel  my  heart  most  wonderfully 
Ughtened.  The  thought  of  my  wife's  truth  comes  like  a  rainbow  to 
wrecked  hope  !  Still  are  there  many  clouds  to  dissipate.  What 
course  shall  I  take  ?  What  if  I  begin  afresh  —  once  more  turn  lover, 
and  try  to  win  the  heart  I  owned  ?  What  if  I  be  successful  ? 
Humph  !  the  result  is  mortifying  :  at  best,  I  triumph  over  my  former 
self  —  so,  in  either  case,  one  of  us  must  be  cast  into  the  shade  ! 
Well,  self-victory  is  the  hardest  to  attain  —  so  say  the  wise  ones.  Be 
it  my  lot  to  make  the  attempt. 

Redtiier  General  Leslie,  l.  h.  1.  e. 

Gen.  L.  I  am  once  more  at  your  service,  and  hope  our  momentary 
difference  will  not  prevent  a  friendship  commenced  jinder  cii'cumstan- 
ces  so  deeply  interesting.  . 

Col.  R.  My  dear  general,  reflection  has  so  increased  my  interest 
in  your  family,  that  I  have  resolved  on  a  few  days  stay  in  the  village 
to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  proving  my  respect  and  esteem. 

Gen.  L,  You  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart  —  ever  ready  for  ac- 
tion, yet  never  bearing  malice.  A  flash  —  a  burst  —  and  then  as  cool 
as  a  gun  barrel. 

Col.  R.     I  wUl  just  step  to  my  hotel 

Gen.  L.  You  are  in  it.  This  house  is  your  hotel,  and  I  the  ready 
host !  Determined  not  to  lose  you,  I  took  upon  myself  to  send  for 
your  baggage.  Come,  sit  down. —  {They  sit.)  Being  particularly 
anxious  to  introduce  you  to  an  agreeable  acquaintance 

Col.  R.     Y''ou  mean  your  daughter,  I  prestune  ? 

Gen.  L.     O,  no —  a  gentleman. 

Col.  R.  Indeed  !  —  {Aside.)  I'm  growing  fidgety  already. — 
{Aloud.)     An  acquaintance,  may  I  ask,  or  friend  ? 

Gen.  L.     The  latter  :  I  may  say  a  relative. 

Col.  R.  {Aside.)  That's  an  equivocal  animal.  —  {Aloud.)  Not  a 
cousin,  I  hope  ? 

Gen.  L,     O,  no  —  a  son-in-law. 

Col.  R.     A  what  ? 

Gen.  L.     A  son-in-law. 

Col.  R.     I  beg  pardon.  —  Have  you  another  daughter  ? 

Gen.  L.     You  saved  my  only  child. 


ADTICE    TO    HUSBANDS.  9 

Col.  R.  (Aside.)  O,  I  am  on  the  rack  !  —  (^Alcud.)  I  under- 
stood you  she  was  a  widow  ? 

Gen.  L.     Ay  —  teas. 

Col.  R.     And  is  she  not  ? 

Gen.  L.  And  is  for  the  present.  I  call  him  son-in-law.  The  bond 
of  affection  wants  but  a  word  to  make  it  perfect. 

Col.  R.  (^Bitterly.)  True  —  words  are  wax,  and  change  their  form 
at  pleasiu-e.     Is  it  with  j^our  consent  ? 

Gen.  L.     Undoubtedly. 

Col.  R.  (^Aside.)  She  has  not  suffered  as  J  have  suffered,  else  could 
she  never  give  her  heart  again.     "  Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman  !  " 

Gen.  L.  He  will  have  to  thank  you  for  the  brightest  earthly  gift  a 
man  can  receive  —  a  good  wife  ! 

Col.  R.     (Aside.)     Curse  his  thanks ! 

Gen.  L.     What  a  gratification  must  such  a  thought  afford  you. 

Col.  R.  Overwhelming  !  —  (Aside.)  Have  I  found  a  lost  gem  to 
see  it  worn  by  another  ?     I'll  die  first ! 

Gen.  L.     You  are  grave.     Do  you  disapprove  of  second  marriages  ? 

Col.  R.     If  a  woman  can  love  twice,  it  is  well. 

Gen.  L.  She  was  but  eighteen  when  she  sacrificed  herself —  at  five 
and  twenty  she  may  have  learned  wisdom. 

Col.  R.  (Aside.)  Perhaps  this  is  a  marriage  of  compulsion  — 
there  is  yet  hope.  —  (Aloicd.)  Is  your  daughter  left  to  follow  the 
stream  of  her  affections  ? 

Gen.  L.  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  tamper  with  things  so  sacred ! 
I  am  gi-owing  old,  and  must  anticipate  that  my  child  will  soon  be 
deprived  of  her  only  earthly  protector  :  enough  that  the  dutiful  girl 
entered  into  my  views,  and  fixed  this  day  for  her  decision. 

Col.  R.     And  that  decision  is 

Gen.  L.     Wholly  miknov\Ti  to  me. 

Col.  R.  (Aside.)  I  breathe  again !  My  mind's  made  up.  I'll 
enter  the  lists  against  him.  —  (Aloud.)  When  is  the  vital  decision  to 
be  given  ? 

Ge7i.  L.     (Looking  at  his  watch.)     In  an  hoxxr  from  this  time. 

Col.  R.  One  hoiur !  —  (Aside.)  The  fate  of  an  empire  has  been 
decided  in  less  time  ! 

Gen.  L.  My  consent  is  given ;  and  the  bridegroom,  that  is  to  be, 
confidently  awaits  her  compliance. 

Col.  R.  (Rises.  —  Aside.)  So,  then,  it  seems  I  am  to  make  love  to 
my  own  wife,  with  only  an  hovu  to  do  it  in,  and  the  odds  against  me  ! 
—  (Aloud.)     General,  what  class  of  beings  are  we  most  apt  to  love  ? 

Gen.  L.  Those  for  whom  we  have  sxiffered,  or  who  have  received 
our  protection. 

Cul.  R.     You  speak  my  own  thoughts. 

Gen.  L.     Well,  and  what  follows  ? 

Col.  R.  This  simple  answer.  I  have  protected  your  daughter, 
therefore  I  love  her  ! 

Gen .  L.     The  deuse  you  do  ! 

Col.  R.  Ay,  sir —  love  her  deeply,  madly,  devotedly  :  love  her  as 
if  she  were  my  wife  !  —  (Aside.)     That's  an  unfortunate  simile  ! 

Ge7i.  L.    I'm  thunderstruck  ! 


10  AD\-1''E    TO    HUSBANDS. 

Col.  R.  In  plain  terms,  general,  I  at  once  declare  myself  your 
daughter's  suitor,  and  shall  devote  the  coming  hour  to  the  advance- 
ment of  my  suit. 

Gen.  L.  You  take  me  by  surprise.  What  shall  I  say  to  her  old 
lover  r 

Col.  R.     Leave  that  to  me.     /  will  settle  with  him  in  any  case. 

Gen.  L.     Consider  my  honor 

Col.  R.  Shall  I  not  consider  my  o^fra.  ?  I  have  taken  a  prize.  — 
Shall  I  yield  her  tamely  ?  No,  general ;  the  arm  that  fought  for  her 
can  and  will  do  so  again,  if  occasion  need  it.  Grant  my  request, 
and,  upon  the  honor  of  a  soldier,  the  instant  the  dial  hand  points  to 
the  moment  of  decision,  I  will  quit  this  roof  forever,  save  at  the  de- 
sire of  your  own  child. 

Gen.  L.  Humph  !  I  like  your  spirit  —  I  like  yourself.  But  Alice 
is  not  the  girl  to  be  lightly  won.  You  shall  have  the  opportunity  you 
ask  for.  I  will  in  no  wise  seek  to  mfluence  my  daughter,  but  simply 
bring  her  here.  —  (Crosses,  e.)  You  are  a  courageous  fellow.  I  have 
myself  done  a  daring  act  or  two  since  I  entered  the  service,  and  I  sup- 
pose all  brave  spirits  are  of  one  family.  (^Chuckling .^  Attempt  to 
win  a  girl  in  an  hour,  from  a  suitor  of  seven  years'  standing  !  A  bold, 
conceited,  impudent,  noble-hearted  coxcomb!  {Exit,  it.  H.  1  e.) 

Col.  R.  What  if  she  loves  this  man  ?  Shall  I  step  between  to  rob 
her  of  the  happiness  she  sought  in  vain  with  me  r  Will  it  not  be  more 
kind,  more  gi-nerous,  more  honorable,  to  retreat?  She  believes  me 
dead ;  and  shall  I  not  be  amply  repaid  in  seeing  her  smile  upon  one 
she  loves  ?  No  —  curse  me  if  I  shall  ?  I  will  employ  the  few  re- 
maining minutes  in  urging  my,  I  fear,  hopeless  suit.  O,  that  I  could 
dream  for  the  next  half  hour  !  I  would  give  five  years  of  my  life  to 
have  it  over ! 

Enter  William,  l.  h.  1  e. 

Wil.     Sir,  the  hot  water  is  ready. 

Col.  R.  Confound  the  fellow !  I've  been  in  nothing  else  since 
morning  !  {Exeunt  William  and  Col.  E.,  l.  h.  1  e.) 

Reenter  Mrs.  Trevor,  r.  h.  1  e. 

Mrs.  T.  Gone  !  and  -s^-ithout  seeing  me  ?  It  is  well.  "WTiy  be 
surprised  that  he  feels  no  interest  in  me  r  Why  regret  it,  since  I 
must  not  feel  interest  in  him  ?  And  yet  he  saved  my  life.  {Crosses 
to  a  sofa  on  L.  h.)  What  is  the  gift  worth  r  {Rests  her  head  upon  her 
hand  in  reverie,  L.)  This  day  completes  my  five  and  twentieth  year, 
and  puts  its  seal  upon  the  seventh  of  my  loneliness  !  This  day,"  too, 
must  I  confirm  or  destroy  the  strongest  hope  of  a  dear  and  indulgent 
parent.  {Fames.)  It  is  not  for  us  to  judge,  although  it  is  hard  to 
bear  a  decree  that  checks  the  current  of  youthiul  feeling,  and  sobers 
a  joyous  girl  into  a  bereaved  matron  !  ' 

Reenter  General  Leslie,  r.  h.  1  e. 
Gen.  L.     I  have  just  sent  for  you,  my  dear  Alice,  and  am  glad  to 


ADVICE   TO    HUSBANDS.  11 

find  you  here.  Our  guest,  Colonel  Rashleigh,  is  desirous  of  an 
interview. 

Mrs.  T.     With  me  ?     For  what  purpose  ?     I  mean  —  when  ? 

Gen.  L.     Immediately. 

Mrs.  T.     Not  before  Captain  Thornton's  visit  ? 

Gen.  L.     He  is  still  in  the  house,  and  made  that  a  point. 

Mrs.  T.  How  strange  !  Have  you  explained  to  him  my  exact 
position  ? 

Gen.  L.  Yes  —  without  mentioning  the  captain's  name.  I  am 
confident  that  Colonel  Rashleigh  is  a  man  of  honor :  the  rest  I  leave 
wholly  to  that  excellent  monitor  —  your  own  heart. 

{Exit,  1  E.  R.  H.) 

Mrs.  T.  {Sits  on  R.  h.)  This  is  a  trial  I  little  anticipated  and  less 
desired.  It  calls  up  too  many  recollections  of  scenes  now  past  recur- 
rence.    {Leans  her  head  upon  her  hand,  R.,  absorbed  in  thought.) 

Reenter  Colonel  Rashleigh,  l.  h.  1  e. 
• 

Col.  R.  {Looking  at  Mrs.  Trevor,  unobsei-ved.)  AVhat  a  sweet 
picture  !  I  could  fancy,  for  the  moment,  that  years  were  annihilated, 
and  I  stood  in  doubt  before  her  once  again  a  lover.  What  have  I  to 
answer  for  r  There  is  no  time  for  self-reproach.  I  must  strain  every 
thought  to  the  attainment  of  the  one  absorbing  object.  {Advances.) 
Madam  !  —  {Aside.)  I  would  give  my  commission  to  know  the  oc- 
cupant of  her  thoughts  !  —  {Aloud.)     Madam  ! 

Mrs.  T.  Sir!  {Rises.)  Pardon  me — I  did  not  observe  your 
presence. 

Col.  R.  It  is  I  who  should  apologize  for  an  unannounced  intrusion. 
I  wished,  madam,  to  see  you  —  alone  ;  and  having  a  few  words  to  say, 
and  but  few  moments  to  shape  them  in,  I  thought  our  introduction 
of  the  morning,  however  informal,  would  plead  an  excuse. 

Mrs.  T.  That  circumstance  alone  induced  my  consent  to  an  inter- 
view at  the  present  moment. 

Col.  R.     And  —  as  moments  —  as  —  as  moments  are  precious 

Pray,  madam,  be  seated.  {Hands  Mrs.  Trevor  a  chair  ;  she  motions 
for  him  to  be  seated  also.)     As  I  said,  madam,  moments  being  precious 

—  I {Aside.)     She   is   a  lovely    creature. — {Aloud.)      I  —  I 

{half  aside)  haven't  a  word  to  say  for  myself ! 

Mrs.  T.     I  am  all  attention. 

Col.  R.     At  the  moment  of  my  life  when  I  would  give  gems  for 

words The  fact  is,  madam,  try  me  upon  any  other  subject,  and 

I  can  discourse  most  eloquently  ;  but  now  —  the  truth  is,  that  with 
those  two  lustrous  eyes  looking  into  my  very  soul,  I  can  only,  without 
the  aid  of  ornament,  in  the  plainest  terms,  repeat  the  avowal. 

Mrs.  T.     {Smiling.)     You  have  made  none  yet. 

Col.  R.  Then,  madam,  take  the  will  for  the  deed  ;  for  if  ever  a  man 
admired,  loved,  honored,  reverenced,  idolized  a  woman,  he  had  but  a 
faint  notion  of  the  overwhelming  thrall  which  a  single  glance  has 
wound  around  one  who  has  not  words  to  express  a  twentieth  part  the 
extent  of  his  bondage  I 

Mrs.  T.    Your  dumb  eloquence  has  speedily  found  a  tongue.     The 


12  ADWrE    TO    HUSBANDS. 

nature  of  our  introduction  alike  excuses  your  hasty  protestation,  and 
my  not  unwilling  attention  to  an  avowal  which  would  otherwise  be 
as  ill  judged  as  immature  You  may  think  I  speak  too  calmly  upon 
a  subject  so  vital  to  the  interests  of  those  Avho  discuss  it ;  but,  unhap- 
pily, I  have  already  once Enough,  sir,  that  —  that  —  {aside) 

—  keep  from  my  heart  !  —  (^aloud)  —  that  duty  has  defined  a  course 
which  inclination  dares  not  swerve  from  ! 

CoL  B.  I  feel  that  I  have  deser\'ed  this  by  speaking  hastily  —  per- 
haps with  levity  ;  but  if  the  offer  of  a  life's  devotion 

Mrs.  T.     Proceed  no  farther  :  pray  do  not  —  you  embarrass  me. 

Col.  R.  Promise  me  but  one  thing  —  that  you  will  not  give  my 
rival  a  decisive  answer.     Promise  this,  and 

Mrs.  T.     I  cannot  —  I  must  not  ! 

Col.  R.     Say  but  that  I  may  revert  to  the  subject 

Mrs.  T.  Colonel  Rashleigh  —  to  you  I  owe  the  life  that  I  would 
rather  part  from  than  tamper  with  the  love  you  have  generously 
proffered. 

Col.  R.     (^Mournfully.)     You  reject  me,'  then  ? 

Mrs.  T.  {After  a  moment's  /lesitation,  with  deep  determination,')  I 
do! 

Col.  R.  {Rising.)  Then  there  remains  but  little  peace  for  me  on 
earth  !  I  have  suffered  years  of  misery  only  to  be  succeeded  by 
others  of  still  deeper  agony  !  But  know,  madam,  that  he  whom  you 
have  sacrificed  to  a  rival 

Mrs.  T.     {Rising.)     A  rival  ?     {With  pride.)     Y''ou  have  none  ! 

Col.  R.     How  ! 

Mrs.  T.     I  said  my  duty  forbade  it.     I  have  been  a  wife  ! 

Col.  R.     (Impressively.)     The  grave  absolves  all  ties. 

Mrs.  T.     Do  we  owe  no  duty  to  the  dead  ?     None  to  their  memory? 

Col.  R.     {Delightedly.)     You  abjure,  then,  all  ties? 

Mrs.  T.  Give  me  a  moment  to  collect  myself,  and  you  shall  see  my 
heart.     {Sits  and  loeeps.) 

Col.  R.     {Resuming  his  seat.)     O,  madam,  I  have  been  premature 

—  rash  —  a  fool  :  forgive  me  —  forgive  me  ! 

^Jrs.  T.  (Collecting  herself.)  Yon  hive  earned  a  right  to  my  con- 
fidence, and  shall  share  it.  You  see  before  you  one  who  yet  young  in 
years  is  old  in  grief.  Before  my  eighteenth  year  1  became  a  wife  ; 
and  although  my  fate  was  linked  to  one  scarcely  three  j'ears  my 
senior,  I  looked  up  to  him  as  a  being  alone  of  his  kind  —  the  one  star 
before  which  all  others  faded;  and,  in  the  fulness  of  my  joy,  I  felt 
that  for  me,  at  least,  earth  had  its  Eden  ! 

Col.  R.     (Aside.)     How  the  very  depth  of  her  love  chides  me  ! 

Mrs.  T.  Six  months  passed  thus :  hours  to  those  that  followed  ! 
I  cannot  speak  in  detail.  We  parted  !  The  moment  for  his  return 
arrived,  and  brought  with  it,  —  not  himself —  not  a  missive  of  affec- 
tion to  tell  of  his  delay,  —  but  a  cruel  and  cold-hearted  letter,  which 
spoke  of  things  that  thought  itself  should  blush  to  meditate.  I  pe- 
rused it  once  —  the  shock  struck  home  ;  and  then  —  for  many,  many 
weeks  —  I  was  the  only  one  who  felt  not  that  the  srm  of  my  happines3 
had  set  forever  ! 

Col.  R.  Your  feelings  were  overwrought.  Y''ou  do  not  —  do  not 
mean  that  — —    I  cannot  bear  even  the  asking ! 


ADVICE   TO   HUSBANDS.  ^3 

Mrs,  T.  (Bisinf/.)  Yes  —  I  was  mad  !  (Colonel  Rashleigh 
starts  up;  Mrs.  'iKEVon  pauses ,  seemingly  unconscious  of  his  presence  ; 
abst}-actedly.)  Look  yonder,  where  a  little  mound  of  earth  shows 
fresh  with  flowers.  They  may  tell  me  it  is  his  grave  —  but  no — I 
never  wept  over  —  never  saw  the  turf  that  keeps  him  from  me.  My 
hand  never  planted  those  sweet  remembrances  of  young  affection  — 
and  who  else  is  there  in  the  world  that  loves  him  well  enough  ?  His 
grave  ?  No ;  it  is  the  spot  where  first  his  words  taught  me  how  briglit 
a  thing  is  the  twining  of  two  souls  !  And  then  the  ivy  clings  about 
the  tall  tree  in  memory  of  it !  Methinks  I  hear  the  organ's  pealing 
note  —  his  voice,  too !  And  then  the  holy  man  who  pronounced  the 
vows  that  affection  leaps  to  echo  !  He  joined  us  in  the  name  of  Him 
who  knows  our  inmost  thoughts  !  (Pauses.)  The  tie  is  indissoluble, 
and  yet  they  would  tear,  me  from  his  very  memory  !  But  they  shall 
not  —  they  shall  not ! 

Col.  R,  {Much  moved.)  Calm  yourself,  madam  :  there  are  none  to 
harm  you  here. 

Mrs.  T.  {Partially  recovering.)  That  voice  speaks  Hke  old  mem- 
ories ;  and,  hearing  it,  I  could  weep  till  my  heart  burst !  {Crosses  to 
Xj.,  presses  her  eyes,  looks  up,  and  endeavors  to  rouse  herself.)  I  have 
been  weeping  !  A  veil  is  before  my  eyes,  and  thought  is  benumbed  ! 
{Turns  io  Colonel  Rashleigh.)  Ah!  I  remember  —  I  was  speak- 
ing  

Col.  li.     When  you  are  more  composed. 

Mrs.  T.  No  —  hear  me  on.  {Sits,  L.)  I  feel  that  I  can  bear  it, 
and  something  whispers  that  you  should  know  all.  {Pauses.)  Four 
years  elapsed,  during  which  time  I  clung  to  a  hope  never  to  be  real- 
ized. He  came  not !  Then  was  the  fatal  blow  struck  —  he  died,  and 
I  became  a  widow.  O,  the  desolation  of  that  word  !  The  utter  lone- 
liness of  a  heart  without  a  kindred  stem  to  cling  to  ! 

Col.  R.  {Aside.)  And  this  is  the  being  I  have  suspected ! 
(Anxiously.)     Had  he  still  lived  —  still  loved 

Mrs.  T.  He  love?  Can  the  ruthless  rending  of  the  holiest  tie  be 
called  by  such  a  word  ?     He  never  loved  ! 

Col.  JR,  Madam,  it  is  hard  to  judge  the  absent  —  difficult  to  guess 
emotions  we  do  not  witness ;  but,  if  ever  wife  was  beloved,  you  were 
by  my  friend,  Frank  Trevor. 

Mrs.  T,     (Rises,  hurriedly.)     Who  utters  that  name  ? 

Col.  R.     (Rising.)     Colonel  Rashleigh — his  fellow  soldier  ! 

Mrs.  T.  (With  emotion.)  His  fellow  soldier!  You  can,  then, 
speak  of  him  ? 

Col.  R.  I  can.  Of  his  truth  —  his  sufferings  ;  but  your  excited 
feelings 

Mrs.  T.  O,  no.  I  am  calm  now  ;  and,  although  he  is  dead,  you 
are  the  first  who  has  spoken  of  him  in  tones  of  gentleness. 

Col.  R.  You  were  in  his  memory  in  the  time  of  peril  —  in  the  hour 
of  sickness.  Even  when  writhing  under  the  anguish  of  a  desperate 
wound,  he  clasped,  blood- dyed  as  it  was,  the  miniature  you  placed 
within  his  bosom,  and  prayed  but  for  sight  to  gaze  upon  it  to  the  last ! 

Mrs.  T.     You  saw  this  —  and  avouch  it  ?     (Anxiously.)    He  spoke 
of  me  —  his  wife  ? 
2 


14  ADTIOE   TO    HUSBANDS. 

Col.  R.     O,  madam,  he  loved 

Mrs.  T.     {Mournfully.)     And  left  me  ? 

Col.  R.  Listen.  Shortly  after  Frank  Trevor  arrived  in  London,  a 
dear  friend  —  who  must  himself  have  been  deceived  —  reported  the 
fatal  untruth  that  made  the  too  credulous  husband  resolve  to  confront 
the  -vvife  he  supposed  had  betrayed  him  ;  but,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
carriage,  the  very  man  report  associated  ^\ith  your  name  crossed  him. 
An  instant  challenge  was  given,  and  his  opponent  fell !  Your  hus- 
band, feeling  that  his  hearth  was  desecrated,  travelled  to  the  East, 
under  an  assumed  name,  and  sought  to  obtain  in  the  grave  the  peace 
his  home  denied  him  ! 

Mrs.  T.  All  this  was  kept  from  me  —  or  never  known.  Who  could 
dare  to  circulate  a  calumny  so  bitter  ? 

Col.  R.  Your  husband  sought  not  to  learn,  for  he  suspected  no  one. 
That  his  motives  might  not  be  misconstrued,  he  left  his  fortune,  with 
a  slight  reservation,  in  your  father's  hands.  Knowing  the  fancied 
sting  that  urged  him  to  the  fatal  course,  do  you  still  reproach  him  ? 

Mrs.  T.  I  never  reproached  him  —  I  felt  his  act  too  deeply  ! 
What  !  Deem  impure  the  soul  to  which  his  had  clung,  under  the 
high  sanction  of  Heaven  itself,  upon  the  poor  word  of  a  vain  boaster  ? 
and  without  one  question  ?  Had  the  whole  world  rung  witli  his 
errors,  I  would  have  sacrificed  my  life  rather  than  condemn  him 
unheard  ! 

Col.  R.  {Bitterli/.)  And  he  could  wrong  a  nature  like  this  ?  O, 
fool  —  O  villain  ! 

Mrs.  T.  Peace  !  You  forget  to  whom  —  of  whom  you  speak  ! 
(JVith  deep  emotion.)    He  was  my  husband  :  he /*  dead  !     (Crosse*,  r.) 

Col.  R.     (^ After  a  pause,  sinks  upon  /lis  knees.)     Alice! 

M)-s.  T.  Whose  voice  is  that  ?  Hush  !  Answer  me  not  —  the  air 
is  dense  and  hot ;  and  a  word  may  press  too  heavily  on  reason  !  I  feel 
more  than  hope  dares  confess  —  more  than  thought  can  compass  and 
retain  its  faculty.  One  question,  and  all  is  over  !  [Shwli/  draivs  a 
tniniature  from  her  bosom,  and  tremulously  shows  it  to  Colonel  Rask- 
LEiGH.)     Is  that  your  gift  r 

Col.  R.     It  is  ! 

Mrs.  T.  (  Uttering  a  half-suppressed  cry.)  My  husband  !  (Falls 
upon  his  neck.) 

Enter  Gexeral  Leslie,  e.  h.  1  e. 

Fire  and  thunder  !     Do  you  do  every  thing  by  steam  ? 
Give  me  joy,  general  !     I  no  longer  dread  a  rival ! 
{To  Mrs.  Thevor.)     And   you   have  decided  in  favor 

My  husband  —  Frank  Trevor. 

Your  husband  !     I  knew  that  he  was  some  mysterious, 
ood-for-notbiig  sort  of  a  nondescript !     But  how  have  I  to 
I  can't  shoot  the  rascal  who  has  saved  your  life. 

Enter  William,  l.  h.  1  e. 

Wil.     {To  General.)     A  letter  from  Captain  Thornton. 
Col.  R.     {Surprised.)     Captain  Thornton  ! 


Gen. 

L. 

Col. 

R. 

Gen. 

L. 

of 

Mrs. 

T. 

Gen. 

L. 

generous,  go 

receive 

him 

ADVICE    TO    HUSBANDS.  16 

Gen.  L.     (^Crosses  to  William.)     My  daughter's  suitor. 

(£xt!!  William,  1  e.  l.  h.) 

Col.  R.  (r.)  He  vras  my  friend  —  mj  second — the  adviser  of  my 
flight  ! 

Gdu.  L.  (l.)  The  news-bearer  of  your  death  !  Let  us  see  what 
the  rascal  says  for  him>elf.  (Heads.)  "  My  having  Itarncd  there- 
turn  of  Frank  Trevor,  will  at  once  account  tor  my  not  presenting  my- 
self. I  loved  your  daughter  unsuccessfully  :  in  revenge  I  circulated 
a  base  falsehood.  I  persuaded  De  Yere  to  meet  Frank  Trevor  —  the 
pistols  were  not  loaded  with  ball,  and  the  true  result  was  concealed. 
The  only  atonement  1  can  now  make  is  a  frank,  though  tardy  con- 
fession." 

Col.  JR.     AVife  ! 

Mrs.  T.     Husband  ! 

Col.  R.     What  can  amend  to  thee  the  misery  of  the  past  ? 

Mrs.  T.     The  happiness  of  the  future  ! 

CH.  R.     Have  all  these  long  years  been  endured  in  vain  ? 

Mrs.  T.     Not  wholly  —  they  are  a  lesson  to  young  hearts. 

Col.  R.  Teaching  husbands  the  folly  —  the  injustice  —  of  judging, 
unheard,  the  nature  that  is  in  purity,  so  far  beyond  their  own. 

Mrs.  T.  And  wives,  that  when  others  condemn,  if  they  abide  by 
their  sacred  vow,  and  reproach  not  the  errors  of  those  to  whom  Heaven 
has  linked  them,  the  same  Power  will  sustain  them  under  their  trials, 
and  lead  back  the  truant  that  otherwise  had  been  lost  forever  ! 

Col.  R.  Having  now  frankly  acknowledged  and  endeavored  to 
atone  for  my  hasty  error,  I  hope  our  friends  will  look  with  an  indul- 
gent eye  upon  past  scenes,  and  not  wholly  disapprove  our 

Mrs.  T.     Hints  to  wives 

Col.  R.    And  "  Advice  to  Husbands." 


SITUATIONS. 


Mrs.  Trevoe. 

■&.  ■&•  ^'  a. 

CUBTAIN. 


ulord  ■ 

EDY   BINDER 

Syrocuse,  N.  Y. 
Stockton,  Calif. 


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